One I loved to poke anyway, I think bitterly. And now he’s gone.
Twilight catches my reflection in the mirror, fingers stilled on the strings. “You good?”
I nod once, sharp, automatic. “Fine.”
But I’m not. Because today, something reminded me of him, and now his absence is a bruise I can’t stop pressing, a wound that never bled but never closed, and doesn’t heal because it never got the chance to.
I grab the oil-slick wig from its stand, securing it over my natural hair, careful of the intricate braids woven through the top half. The iridescent strands shimmer under the light, shifting from deep purples to greens and blues, as untouchableas I force myself to be. I stab the hair sword through the braids, exhaling slowly.
I’m almost there—almost Ara.
I step into my dress, the fabric sliding against my skin, cold like the rest of me. Tiny gemstones form constellations across the bodice, catching the light as I adjust the straps. The slits along my thighs let me move easily, dance freely, and command the stage without restriction. I roll my shoulders, slipping into the thigh-highs before fastening my boots.
The energy in the room changes. Everyone feels it.
Dusk smirks. “Nothing gets past the veil.”
My fingers brush over the final piece—the gold chain veil that will cover the lower half of my face. Each delicate link glints with tiny gemstones, meant to dazzle under the stage lights and distract from the human underneath. Tens of thousands of faceless fans will cheer for me tonight, believing in the illusion I give them.
They’ll see Ara.
Twilight strikes a dramatic chord, heightening the emotion in the room. “Now say it once again with feeling.”
A slow exhale pushes past my lips. I sit up straighter, rolling my shoulders back. “Nothing gets past the veil.”
I hook the veil behind my ears and let it fall into place.
Celeste is gone.
Shade grins and twirls a drumstick. “There she is.”
The energy in the room shifts, excitement thickening the air.
“I still can’t get over these new costumes,” Dusk says, plucking at one of the gemstone constellations on her sleeve. “The way the stage lights are gonna hit? We’re about to look ethereal as fuck.”
Shade leans forward, grinning. “I’m just glad I get to look badass and still breathe. I swear the leather bodysuit I wore during rehearsals could be classified as a war crime.”
“Better than those heels I had to wear,” Twilight mutters, making a face. “My knees have never been the same.”
I laugh at his dramatics. “Dude, yours were barely two inches tall, and they wereplatforms. The rest of us were rocking four-inch heels the entire two hours. The things we suffer for art.”
Dusk nudges my knee. “You looking forward to playing anywhere specific?”
I hesitate. The answer should beyes—everywhere. We’re playing all over the world and getting to experience so many cultures this time, making history as an anonymous band.
But my mind snags on one city. One man.
The last place I saw him.
I push the thought away.
“All of it,” I say instead. “But probably Tokyo. It’ll be our first stop abroad, and I have a feeling it’s gonna be insane.”
Twilight hums. “Hell yeah, it is.”
A knock at the door cuts through the moment. The venue manager peeks in. “Five minutes.”
Showtime.
